


Understanding Bond(age)

by AtoTheBean



Series: Surprisingly Well Matched [2]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM, Bondage, Consensual Kink, Edging, M/M, Marks, Nipple Clamps, Relationship Negotiation, To Be Continued, Toys, crops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-06-26 23:56:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15673860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AtoTheBean/pseuds/AtoTheBean
Summary: From the end of Bond’s Break-ins:Q bites his lip.  “What do you want me to do after that?”A thrill flutters low in James’ stomach. He knows exactly how to answer this; he’s been practicing the whole way home. “After you tell Jon he isn’t needed,” James says softly, “I want you to prepare yourself just as you would have for him. And then I want you to go to the room and lay out ten items you’d like me to use on you tonight… I don’t promise to use them all, mind you, but I want to see where your head is and have some choices. Once you’ve laid those out, I want you to kneel on the floor, naked, with your hands behind your back, and wait for me. I’ll know you’re ready when the room goes quiet. In the meantime, I’ll be in the sitting room.”This is what comes next...





	1. Setting the Scene

**Author's Note:**

> For all of you who encouraged me to continue this story...

It becomes clear fairly soon that Q is going to take a while with his… preparations. And that’s fine, actually. It gives James a bit of time to regroup. He’s been in such a rush to get home in time to see to Q’s needs, now that he’s faced with the task, he finds himself a bit unprepared. Not _unwilling_ — he’s been fantasizing about it for hours. But he’s still in his suit — from last night — and it makes him feel both over and underdressed for the occasion. And looking far too much like 007. Tonight… well, he’s not entirely familiar with this new role, but he’s fairly certain looking too much like his work persona will cause unwanted associations.

He gets his travel bag from the car and uses the sink in the kitchen to wash his face and shave. He doesn’t have a cleaner set of clothes with him, but he works with what he has, removing his jacket and tie, rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt and unbuttoning the top few buttons to expose a bit of his chest. He removes his shoes and socks and clears everything into a neat pile. That’s better; still commanding, but much more intimate.

The shower is off now, but Q is firmly ensconced in the bathroom. James isn’t sure what’s entailed in these preparations Q is making, but he’s finding the anticipation distinctly pleasurable. He pours himself a scotch and pokes around Q’s bookcases, noting the variety of books. He finds an old iPod in a speaker stand, nestled into the corner of a shelf. Curious, he swipes to find it unlocked and dedicated to an extensive music collection, most of which he’s never heard of. The names of the playlists are intriguing, though. He vows to investigate “Cleaning” later, instead selecting one called “Captivated”.

It’s perfect. Not unlike the music he heard in the club in Berlin. And his reaction is almost that of Pavlov’s dog. He licks his lips in anticipation and turns it down a touch so he can still listen for signs of Q, He slouches in a club chair and closes his eyes, savoring the taste of the scotch and the anticipation simmering low in his stomach. He’s rushing into this. He knows he is. There are so many things they should have talked about first — limits and expectations and he’s not entirely sure what else. He’s going to have to be cautious and aware as he’s also being demanding and assertive. But that’s a balance he strikes routinely in other aspects of his life. It feels dangerous, but in a good way. He hopes Q is feeling much the same.

He’s half hard when he hears Q walk softly down the hall and open the forbidden door. Then a series of drawers open and close, metal clatters softly, there’s a scrape like wood being dragged across the floor, and then silence.

James lingers a few more minutes, allowing Q to feel the anticipation, too. Then he rises and walks toward the door, both out of his own impatience and the need to ensure Q doesn’t interpret a delay as reluctance.

As vivid as his imagination can be, the sight that greets him is beyond expectation. He didn’t really get a good look at the room before, but now he realizes that Q must have designed this space himself to suit his own personal tastes and desires. And _that_ is interesting on its own. Where the rest of the flat is painted a warm cream that suits both the predominantly modern furniture and more traditional and colorful Persian rugs and almost bohemian art scattered throughout the rest of the flat, this room is darker. Almost monochromatic, with walls of a shimmering bronze and a floor of polished dark wood, approaching black. Built-in drawers in that same almost-black wood line the lower half of one side of the room, and various items hang neatly on the wall above them — like tools stored above a workbench in Q Branch. Two are missing, James notes as his eyes sweep across to the other wall, where several mysterious pieces of furniture are stored, all also black or nearly black. Several wooden chairs are scattered around the room, and a leather club chair sits in the corner. The far end of the room boasts a frame structure of heavy beams and pulleys, which Q can no doubt explain the purpose of at a later date.

But the center of the room is most interesting, at the moment. A dark, padded table dominates, metal rings shining brightly around its perimeter. This is the table Q had been tied to last time he entered this room, James realizes, the rings serving as anchors for the ropes. Beside the table is a wooden two-tiered cart that might have been used in some former life to roll a tea service into a parlor, but now serves up neatly coiled lengths of rope on its lower tier, and various other implements on its upper — no doubt the items he asked Q to lay out.

And in front of the table, with his back to the door, Q kneels on a small black cushion. His skin nearly glows in the soft light against the black-bronze background. James wants desperately to touch it and then realizes that he _can_. All that shimmering, alabaster skin is _his_ in a manner of speaking. At least for a bit. A primal jolt of possessive desire pulls him from the doorway, but… there’s something in Q’s posture that is off-putting. He’s kneeling, with his hand clasped behind his back, arse resting on his ankles, his head down and shoulders hunched, almost as if he were cowering. And though James remembers subs sitting just like this in the Berlin club, he doesn’t like it on Q.

He walks forward slowly, taking another sip of his scotch. Q’s breath catches as he hears James’s quiet footfalls, and he seems to shift… attempting to perfect this hunched posture. James reaches out and threads his fingers through Q’s damp curls. Then he drags his fingertips down Q’s temple, down his cheek, until they’re pressing lightly against the bottom of Q’s jaw. Q allows his face to lift, keeping his eyes lowered until James clears his throat. Then Q meets his eyes and doesn’t waver. James is relieved to find no fear in his expression. This hunched cowering… it’s just a pose. And he doesn’t have to accept it.

“Back straight, please,” he says, keeping the hand on Q’s jaw firm and taking another casual sip of his scotch with the other. “Good. Shoulders back.” Q complies immediately, and James’ gaze rakes over his form. He’s lovely. “That’s better. Now keep your feet together but spread your knees… Yes, much better.” Now, James can see everything: the extent of Q’s erection, the soft skin along his belly, stretched as he arches his back a bit, the thin but muscular chest, which is rising and falling with each deep breath Q takes to steady himself. The green of his eyes...

James licks his lips. “I know it’s customary for some Doms to want you to avert your eyes and hunch toward the floor, but I don’t want that. When I ask you to kneel, this is the position I want,” he says softly, stroking, Q’s cheek. “Open to me. So I can see how I’m affecting you. And you can see how you’re affecting me.”

“Yes, Sir,” Q answers, eyes flashing quickly to James’ bulge. And that… _fuck_ that’s lovely. That’s… he _really_ likes the ‘sir'. More than he’d expected.

“And what should I call you, when we’re like this?” James asks gently, almost to himself. Something… conflicted… crosses Q’s face. “I’m not asking for your name," James clarifies. “If I ever earn that, it will be under different circumstances, I think. But calling you by your work moniker seems particularly inappropriate, not to mention disconcerting.” Q watches him silently. Waiting for a question, James realizes. “What does _he_ call you?” James asks.

“‘Boy’,” Q answers promptly. “Or ‘Pet’. Sometimes… ‘Slut.’ ‘Cockslut,’” he admits, and his cock twitches at the memory. And _that’s_ an interesting tell.

“And are you?” James asks. Something flashes in Q’s expression. “Not in general,” James clarifies again. “But when you’re like this… when you’re so desperate to quiet your mind that you hand yourself over to someone else. Are you then?” He drags his thumb to Q’s lips. “Are you going to let me choke you with it, and then beg me for more?” he whispers, his breath almost hitching when Q opens his mouth and swipes his tongue across James’ thumb. _Fucking hell._ “I think you are,” he says, pushing his thumb into Q’s mouth for just a moment. “But you’re going to have to wait.” He steps away, watching Q sway into the space he just occupied, and then center himself as James walks over to the cart, picking up the items absently. He’s grateful to see he knows how to use them all.

“I’m going to say a few words, and for each I want you to give me a number between one and ten. Ten means this…” he waves his hand to indicate the room “ _can’t_ work for you without that word being involved. Six through nine indicate that you would prefer to engage in that activity, five is neutral, two through four indicate you’d rather not do it, but are willing if I feel strongly about wanting it, and one means no. Hard limit.” This is the closest thing James can think of to developing a limits contract on the fly. He hopes it’s enough to give them both a reasonable level of comfort in what’s about to happen.

“Yes, Sir.”

Bond starts with an easy one, based on the items laid out on the cart.

“Bondage.”

“Ten.”

“Toys.”

“Nine.”

“Orgasm delay,” he says, starting to uncoil the ropes and loop them through rings set around the perimeter of the table: one on each side a third of the way from the foot, and one at the head.

“Ah, nine,” Q answers, stumbling over the word as he watches James lay the ropes out. Trying to suss out his plan, no doubt.

“Pain.”

There’s a pause, long enough to make James turn observe Q. He’s clearly having difficulty with this one, which seems strange, considering that he’s laid out a flogger, a crop, a paddle, _and_ a cane.

“If you need more than a single word to explain, please feel free to elaborate.”

Q’s expression changes from concern to relief. “Pain in general is an 8, but it doesn’t need to be much. There’s some… debate on this issue, but I don’t consider myself a pain slut. But I do like…” He licks his lips, faltering.

“Go on,” James encourages, watching him intently.

Q takes a deep breath. “I like knowing I’ve had a session for the next day or so. It… helps.”

Ah. Well, that can be true of a good fuck, but James thinks he understands what Q might be after. And he finds it quite appealing as well: the idea of Q thinking of this at random moments over the next few days. He nods and gathers up six of the restraints and walks over to Q, lowering himself onto one knee behind him.

“Marks,” he says, wrapping a leather restraint around one of Q’s wrists. The resulting shiver is delicious.

“Ah, seven, but below the waist, where they won’t be seen.”

“Hmmm.” James places the next restraint on Q’s other wrist, pulling the buckle tight as he leans in close to Q’s ear. “You’ve let _me_ mark you where it was visible,” he reminds Q, lowering his mouth onto Q’s neck, but not sucking.

“Oh god,” Q murmurs, tilting his head to allow better access. “Uh… marks from _implements_ below the waist.” he clarifies “Marks from your mouth… anywhere you want. And a nine.”

James sucks, not enough to bruise, but enough to make Q gasp and to satisfy the possessive, primitive thing uncurling inside him. “Hips up,” he says firmly, tapping at Q’s tailbone so he stands on his knees. James fastens another restraint to Q’s ankle. “Humiliation.”

“Uh. Three. But…”

“But the odd bit of name calling or dirty talk wouldn’t go amiss. Yes, I spotted that, my lovely little cockslut.”

“Fuck,” Q whispers, shivering. And then. “Sorry. Sorry, Sir.”

James smirks. “Nipple-play,” he says, fastening one of the larger restraints around Q’s thigh.

“F-five,” Q says after a moment. And that doesn’t sound like the neutrality of ambivalence… more like a love/hate reaction.

“Cock sucking.”

“Nine.”

“Deep throating,” James says, his voice lilting with curiosity. As talented as Q is at giving head, James doesn’t know if this is something he does... or enjoys.

“Seven… maybe higher when I’m in the right headspace.”

James adjusts his erection, hoping he’ll be able to get Q into the right headspace. That’s not a pleasure he’s had often, but there’s something about Q on his knees that makes James want it. He trails a hand on Q’s inner thigh before fastening another restraint around it.

And god, is there anything Q _doesn’t_ want?

“Daddy kink,” James finally tries.

Q turns his head slightly before remembering himself. “Uh… three?”

James fastens the last restraint on Q’s ankle.

“Watersports.”

There’s a pause and then, “One. I’m sorry, but…”

“Relax, pet,” James says, tracing fingers along the juncture of Q’s bare skin and the leather restraints at his wrists. “I don’t actually have any interest in those last two. I just wanted to be sure you’d tell me ‘no’.”

James stands, collects two of the wooden chairs from against the wall and walks them back to the table, placing them at the foot, facing each other. He ties a length of rope off to a crossbar on the back of each and lets the rest of the rope dangle. Then he walks back over to the tray, where he left his scotch. He leans a hip against the table and turns back to Q, raising his glass to his lips as his gaze rakes over Q’s form.

Q’s pale skin contrasts beautifully with the dark leather around his thighs and ankles and the dark curls framing his jutting cock. His hands are clasped behind his back or James would see the dark leather at his wrists as well. James adjusts his own cock again, enjoying the way Q’s eyes follow the movement… no longer a furtive, stolen glance. Q understands now that it’s allowed. Wanted.

James takes a sip of scotch. “We can talk later about your usual safe words. For this session, I’d like to use the admittedly cliched green-amber-red, so I can check in with you.”

“Yes, Sir.”

He steps closer. Close enough to run fingers through Q’s curls again. “You swore earlier, and then apologized. I know some Doms require silence from their subs unless they’re spoken to, but I don’t want that either. At least not this first time. I want to hear you. I want to understand what you like, so I can intensify it. And I absolutely want to understand when there’s something you don’t like. I want you to use ‘amber’ if you need it, and allow me to adjust. The worst outcome today — for me at least — would be if at the end I thought things had gone well, only to have you tell me that you’ve decided to stick with Jon after all, when a small adjustment partway through could have allowed me to give you what you need. I _will_ push you and be demanding, but I can only do that if I’m confident you’ll help steer me away from what you _really_ don’t want.”

Q nods. “Yes, Sir.” His chest is rising with elevated breathing. Cock still hard. Shoulders back and legs open. All of him, really, open to James. Exactly how James wants him: submissive, willing, and not cowering.

James takes a sip of scotch as he lets that revelation settle. He may have started this exploration so he could give Q what he needs, but now he can’t deny that he very much likes it, too. Likes Q open and on his knees. Likes knowing he could feed Q his cock right now, or hold off for an hour, and either would be welcome. He likes having the control, and though he’s here to get Q out of his head, he’s also very aware that he’s taking note of his own desires and reactions. Right now, for instance, he wants to hear Q gasp. He combs his fingers through Q’s curls and then tightens them into a fist, tugging at his hair. The reaction is immediate and beautiful: Q’s head tilts back further, following James’ hand, his back arches, his mouth opens slightly with a small hitch of breath, and his cock jumps. It’s perfect. He looks vulnerable and trusting as he continues to meet James’ gaze.

James lets the power differential settle between them for a moment, slowly sipping at his scotch, and then asks, “Is there anything else we should discuss before we get started?”

“No, Sir.”

“Good. Let’s get you tied to the table, shall we?”


	2. A Matter of Size

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be traveling for work, so the next bit might take more time. Thanks as ever to Ducky for her help.

“Up here,” Bond says, leading Q to the chairs facing each other at the foot of the table. “One knee on each chair, please.”

Q walks forward and centers himself across the two chairs with more grace than James would have expected considering his hands are still clasped behind his back.

James takes a carabiner from the tray on the table and loops it through one of the wrist-cuff rings. Then he takes each of Q’s wrists in his hands and moves them in front of him, stepping closer, almost as if he’s embracing Q from behind. Close enough that Q can likely feel his erection. He looks over Q’s shoulder and clicks the carabiner through the other ring, linking Q’s wrists in front of him, feeling Q shudder against him. It’s a heady feeling knowing that Q _wants_ this. Wants James to take his freedom for even a moment. He’s offering no resistance, but also no help, allowing James to manipulate his body without trying to guess what he wants. It allows James to go slowly, savor the sensation, take note of Q’s hitched breath and shivers as James drags his hand back across Q’s belly, tightening a quick embrace coupled with a small thrust of his hips against Q’s arse before pulling away. He walks along the side of the table, hooking a finger through the carabiner and dragging it forward to meet the rope at the other end, pulling at Q until his torso is draped over the table and stretched, his hip bones resting on the padded edge. James ties the rope off and brushes his fingers along the thick leather at Q’s wrists, the taut sinewy muscles of his stretched arms. He returns to the foot of the table, trailing a finger along Q’s spine, watching him arch like a cat.

He’s never done this, he thinks as he ties off the first thigh cuff to the back of a wooden chair. He’s never restrained someone for pleasure. It’s a bit intimidating, if James is honest with himself. Q’s been doing this for so long — James has absolutely no idea how many Doms he’s had — he probably expects James to do something safe and predictable. But James wants to please him, wants to _surprise_ him. Fortunately, his recent self-taught crash course in BDSM means that James has seen a _lot_ of videos, all at once. Inspiration that fed many a fantasy, improved upon by his extensive understanding of knots, though he never expected his Naval training to be used in _quite_ this way. And improvisation is a strength of his.

And though he’s seen it done on video and at the club in Berlin, he finds the experience of restraining Q himself quite different than he’d imagined. Watching it, the process seemed perfunctory: a means to an end, utterly impersonal. But as he switches to Q’s other leg he finds the process much more sensual than he expected. He feels Q’s muscles tighten slightly in an automatic response to being moved, and then relax as Q makes the conscious choice to give himself over to James’ will. He feels Q sigh as the rope tightens. Sees him shift against the restraints to test them, and then relax in the knowledge that they’re secure. It’s not just a means to an end, it’s a prelude. Another step in developing this exchange of power that Q understands and James is just beginning to appreciate.

James likes it. His touches of Q’s body have hardly been sexual so far, but he’s already hard just from this. Just from feeling Q make himself to relax and allow James to move him into position. Trusting him. Especially since Q seems a bit uncertain about James’ intent, bemused by the use of the chairs until both restraints are secure and James starts dragging the chairs apart, forcing Q’s legs to spread with nothing but space underneath his hard cock, offering plenty of room for James to play.

Q groans, perhaps from the feel of the new position — exposed and spread — or perhaps just in finally understanding this small part of James’ plan. The sound sends another jolt of awareness to James’ groin, and he sweeps a possessive hand over the curve of Q’s arse, appreciating the long arc of smooth skin and taut muscles stretched from the black leather bindings at his wrists, down his arms and spine, the swell of his arse bent over the table edge, down strong, limber thighs finally interrupted by more black leather spreading him and holding him firmly in place.

For James.

He leans forward, pressing his clothed erection against Q’s arse, reaching to trace fingers from the nape of Q’s neck down his spine, finally brushing them against the dimples above his arse. He’s at the perfect height to fuck, and part of James wants to do just that, but there’s an entire tray of items to experiment with and all this skin to explore.

“Color?”

“Green,” Q says immediately, if a bit breathlessly.

James pulls back so he can touch further down, tracing down Q’s crack, brushing the outside of his fingers along Q’s inner thighs down to the leather and the back up, squeezing Q’s arse as he says, “You look bloody fantastic.” And he does. Sexier than anything in a video or at the one club James had tried. It would be easy, in fact, to just focus on muscles and skin and lean curves, and completely objectify the man. That _is_ part of the dynamic… why nicknames like “Boy” or “Pet” add to the game.

But James can recognize the rhythm of Q’s breath. Would know it with his eyes closed, he’s heard it in his ear so often. And this is very personal.

“Comfortable? I may keep you here for a while.”

Q hums in agreement. “I can hold this position for as long as you need me to.”

“Good.” He presses the cheeks of Q’s arse apart to expose his entrance, brushing his thumbs lightly across the tight pucker as Q offers a needy little sound. “I intend to take my time exploring you. I’ve never really had the luxury.” Q’s entrance is pink and smooth and looks almost virginal as James brushes his thumb across it and watches Q squirm against his restraints in response. And _fuck,_ that’s lovely. He does it again, enjoying the way Q writhes within his very limited range of motion. The restraints hold firm, and James dips his fingers lower down, brushing down the perineum to smooth, heavy bollocks and back up—

“Did you…” he finally realizes what he’s feeling. “Have you waxed?” Because Q’s arse and balls are utterly hairless. Just smooth and soft and oh so inviting.

“Oh, uh, shaved,” Q stammers, trying to focus on words again. “You said to prepare myself. You didn’t give specifics, but many Doms prefer their subs… ah… _clean_ … inside and out. I decided it was best to be thorough.”

“Thorough,” James repeats. “Outside and _inside_.”

“Yes. I thought it best to be aahhhh oh _god!”_ Q’s words falter as James spreads his arse and swipes his tongue across the entrance. The skin is smooth and tastes vaguely of Q’s soap, but it's the reaction that is sublime. Q twists and arches, tugging at the restraints as he writhes in pleasure. And he makes the most _delicious_ sounds. Moans that go straight to James’ cock, especially when combined with the creak of the leather. James has never done this — never been tempted to try — but grows more and more enthusiastic as he takes in Q’s response. Bloody hell, he’s lovely. He moans again as James applies more pressure, and then starts to chuckle.

“Something funny?” James asks as he reaches for the lubricant on the table.

“No, Sir. I’m just really relieved you don’t plan to punish me for making noise tonight, because I seem incapable of keeping quiet.”

“Who says I won’t?” James counters, biting at Q’s arse and receiving a yelp for his trouble. Smiling, he soothes the bite with his tongue and probes Q’s entrance with a slicked finger.

“Oh, god, that’s good,” Q sighs as James pushes in past his first knuckle.

“Hmmm,” James agrees, spreading more lube. With one hand he works Q’s arse, pushing a single finger in and out almost excruciatingly slowly, and with the other, he strokes Q’s cock, just as slowly. It’s not enough to get Q close, just enough to distract from any sting from the stretch. In almost no time James’ finger is buried in Q’s arse, and Q is arching and trying to push back for more.

“So eager,” James coos. “So eager to show me what you can take. Are you ready for more?”

“Yes, Sir. Green.”

Q keens as James starts to work his second finger in, panting heavily and tugging at the restraints. James can see the side of his face, expression inwardly focused as he concentrates on his body. This is what he needs, James thinks. Not just stimulation, but a challenge that takes up his whole mind, leaving no room for other thoughts. After a few moments Q’s moaning his approval, and James feels the muscles relax around his fingers until he can slide them slowly in and out just as easily as he could with one.

“That’s it. So good for me. God, you’re gorgeous,” he admires, continuing to stroke Q’s cock as well. It feels luxurious, this slow slide of slick skin. His fingers disappearing into Q’s body. And fuck if Q doesn’t seem eager for more. “What color are we?”

“Green. I can handle more, Sir, Your fingers are deliciously thick, but I can take more.”

“Greedy,” James muses, looking over at the toy on the tray. It’s no bigger than two fingers. “I see how you earned the title ‘cockslut’.” Q whimpers and his cock jumps in James’ hand. “Shhh. Okay, let’s see how you do with this.”

He slicks up the plug and begins to push it in, massaging Q’s cock as he presses it deeper. Q breathes deeply, concentrating, muscles taut as he holds himself still against the restraints, but accepts the plug with little effort.

“That wasn’t a challenge for you all,” James murmurs, disappointment clear in his voice.

“There are others,” Q blurts. “In the drawer. Ah… center.”

James wipes his hand on a towel and strolls over to the drawers he’d been studiously ignoring, afraid that once he starts exploring them, he’d become overwhelmed with possibilities. He opens the top center drawer to find to find a series of nipple clamps and chains, laid out like a women's jewelry case. James' cock twitches again, and he wonders why Q didn’t lay one of these out. He tries the next drawer down and finds a frankly _astounding_ array of butt plugs and dildos, arranged by size. There’s an empty slot near the left, where the smaller items are aligned.  They get impressively larger to the right, varying in shapes, some electronic, some with large handles, clearly meant for fucking, others with flat bases that could be worn under clothes. Some look _impossibly_ large.

“You’ve had _all_ of these in you?”

“Yes, Sir. Pick any you like. I should have… I should have chosen a larger one. I need…” He falters, and James looks over to find Q watching him, almost warily.

“Shhh,” James soothes, tilting his head and wondering what has Q nervous. “I like having choices. Close your eyes, Pet. I’ll take care of you.”

When Q does, James selects three items from the drawer, moving from left to right, and slips the remote for the last one into his pocket.

Q is tense when he returns, clearly thinking far more than he should be. And bugger that. Literally. James places the new items on the tray and runs a soothing hand over Q’s arse.

“Ready for more? Color?”

“Green, Sir. Only if that’s what you want.”

“It is. Your collection has me quite intrigued,” he adds, slicking up the smallest of the plugs he’d taken with lubricant. The tip is no larger than the toy currently ensconced in Q, but the base will provide a stretch to ready him for the next toy.

“It does?” Q’s voice trembles as James removes the plug and positions the new toy.

“Oh, yes.” James starts to work the toy in, stroking Q’s cock to ease the way. “It makes me wonder if you’re more a _size_ slut than a cockslut.” As if proving his point, Q groans and arches as the toy presses in. “You like the stretch?” He asks the question almost conversationally. Almost as if he’s unaffected by the sight of Q’s arse extending around the vivid red silicon or the sound of him groaning as he concentrates on accepting it.

It takes a moment for Q to find his words. “I like feeling full. The stretch… _oh god_ … the stretch is necessary for that.”

“Hmmm. That is good information,” he says, adjusting his grip on Q’s cock, and watching the toy slip into Q’s arse a little further as he groans. “But I don’t think it’s the whole story. I think you _like_ the stretch.” He pumps the toy in a few more times, each time a bit deeper than the last. “I know _I_ like watching you take it.”

“Oh god!”

“And I think, judging from what I saw in the drawer, that you like the challenge. And you like it when someone _likes_ watching you stretch to take in a toy.”

Q whimpers, but arches and writhes against the toy, and James is sure he’s right.

“I’ve never done this,” James adds, watching the toy slide home. He lets Q settle with that one in place and starts slicking up the next one. “I’ve opened people up so I could fuck them.” He removes the toy and slides the tip of the next one in as Q trembles and keens. “But I’ve never just investigated what someone could take. Not when I was sure they could take a lot, if properly motivated.” He shifts his grip on Q’s cock again, earning a groan and another pull against the restraints. “What color are we?”

“Green,” Q pants immediately.

“Good.”

The next several minutes are fascinating. This toy is more challenging for Q, but his response is beautifully intense, encouraging James to keep pushing his limits. It’s a long, gentle taper that stretches Q and fills him, but won’t stay in place, forcing James to pump it continuously. By the time Q can take it to the base, he’s trembling, a small sheen of sweat coating the bunched muscles of his back. Whenever James pauses or shifts his grip, Q whispers “green” preemptively, eyes still closed, mouth open. James isn’t surprised by this, but he’s a bit surprised by his own reactions. The deeper Q goes into subspace, the more something primal and demanding flares up within James. He feels powerful and more secure… more sure of himself as he recognizes in Q what he’d seen when he’d broken in and interrupted a session all those weeks ago. He can do this… make Q feel this. It’s breathtaking and _bloody_ hot.  And it makes James want to demand more of him.

“The last one, Pet,” he murmurs as he lubes up the third toy. This one is a bit shorter with a sharper flare, a narrower neck, and a flared, thin base to keep it from being irretrievable. Once in, it will stay, and be reasonably flush with Q’s opening. James has been considering the possibilities since he first saw it. “You’re doing so well. Just take this last one for me.”

“Yes, Sir,” he pants, almost in a trance, “I’ll take anything from you.”

Bloody fucking hell. James adjusts his cock, again. Once this toy is in, it’s going to be his turn for some attention.

It doesn’t take long. Only the flare of this toy is wider than the last, and with just a bit of coaxing, Q is gasping as it slides home.  His arse closes over the widest bit, settling around the narrower neck. It’s a bloody magical sight.

“You did it, Pet.” James tugs on it to make sure it’s secure, earning a faint gasp from Q. “So good. How do you feel?” he asks, wiping up the excess lubricant with a towel.

“Full. God, _so_ full.”

“Color?”

“Green. Perfect.”

“Rest a moment,” James suggests, kissing Q’s tailbone and smoothing a hand over the small of his back. “Catch your breath before we continue.” James wraps everything he’s used in a towel and puts it on the lower shelf of the cart, out of the way, making room for the items he wants to use next, He walks around the side of the table where he can see Q’s face more clearly.

Fuck, he’s gorgeous. Hair mussed and mouth slack and eyes focused in some middle distance until James steps immediately into his view. Even then, he doesn’t really focus until James starts stroking his cock over his trousers, the movement drawing Q’s eyes. Q raises his head for a better look and licks his lips.

“So full, and yet still eying another cock,” James teases, reaching out to comb fingers through Q’s curls. If Q is embarrassed, he shows no signs of it. “I admit, I was hoping that’d be your reaction,” James whispers, tugging softly at Q’s hair. “But first…” James gives his cock one last squeeze through his trousers, and then reaches his hand into his pocket, flicking on the remote to its lowest setting.

Q’s eyes roll back as he arches against the restraints, groaning _fuckfuckfuck._

James smirks. “Alright there, Pet?”

Q squeezes his eyes shut, panting. “I… amber.”

James stiffens. “Does it hurt?” he asks, reaching quickly into his pocket.

“No. It’s bloody _fantastic_. I’m just dangerously close.”

“Oh.” James hesitates. “You’re in control now, though?”

Q nods. “Just…”

“No more for now? And perhaps that ring you laid out will help?”

Q swallows and nods, and James leaves the vibrator running slowly. He goes back to the tray to retrieve the silicon ring, stretching it over Q’s bollocks and cock until it’s tight at the base of his groin. And he realizes that _this_ is another reason Q might have chosen to shave.

“Better?” he asks when he has it in place.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good.” He tugs at the knots at each thigh, loosening the connection to the chairs, and then moves around the table and does the same for Q’s wrists, unfastening the carabiner and using it to secure Q’s wrists behind his back. “Up you come.”

Q seems surprised by his abrupt freedom of movement, but staggers coltishly to his feet with the help of Bond’s grip on his arm. James pulls him away from the table, back to the pad he knelt on before.

“On your knees,” James commands, and Q’s focus returns immediately. He drops and spreads his knees the way James prefers, closes his eyes briefly as his arse drops onto his heels, jarring the toy, but then he straightens his back and looks up at James. Waiting.

“Very good,” he says, loosening his belt and tossing it away. “I’m glad you enjoy orgasm denial, but for myself, I find it overrated. If I’m going to use anything else you’ve laid out... well, I’ll need a bit of relief, I think.” He unzips his flies and exposes his cock, stroking it as Q watches and licks his lips.

“Care to show me just how much of a cockslut you are?” James whispers, and Q groans, opens his mouth, and sucks the head of James’ cock in.

It’s bloody _perfect_. Q is always talented with his tongue — in multiple ways, really — but right now he's so close himself that he's approaching the task with enthusiasm. His tongue teases and his cheeks hollow to create the perfect amount of suction, and he’s wet and hot and _bloodyfuckinghell_ James feels like he’s waited an eternity just for this. He lets Q play for a moment, tongue teasing his slit and foreskin, and then he holds up the remote so Q can see it. Q's eyes widen. He waits for Q to slacken his mouth before turning it up, and Q keens and sucks him more urgently, lips sliding forward enough that his nose teases the hair at James’ groin. He slides back and forward again, until James feels the back of Q’s throat. And fuck, he wants _more._ He slips the remote into a shirt pocket and threads the fingers of both hands through Q’s hair. Q is watching him with steady eyes and a slack mouth, so beautiful in his submission James nearly comes from the _sight_ of him. James wants him. Wants _everything_ about him. He grasps Q’s hair, tightening his fingers as Q’s eyes flutter but remain open. The urge to push and _take_ is almost overwhelming, but he checks one last time.

“Green?”

Q nods, and there’s no holding back. He thrusts into the channel of Q’s throat, and back out again, trying to remember that the man needs to breathe even as he relishes the tight wet heat and the eyes still gazing at him with intensity. He thrusts in again, and Q closes his eyes and tips his head back, urging James deeper. And that…

“Bloody hell, look at you take it,” he chokes as he thrusts. “That is gorgeous… that’s just oh _hell_ , oh bloody fucking hell...” He comes down Q’s throat with a groan, remembering probably just a beat later than he should to pull back and let Q breathe. Q coughs briefly, but then looks up and gives James a pleased, satisfied look.

“So good,” James gasps, loosening his fingers in Q’s hair and milking his cock against Q’s cheek, smearing the last of his orgasm against Q’s cheekbone as he catches his breath. “I’ve often wondered about this club you go to,” he confesses. “I think the Doms there must not be able to look away from your _lips._ Your arse is lovely; your cock, sublime, but _these lips,_ ” James emphasizes as he smears the last of his come across them, “make straight men fantasize. Do you think they would know, if I marked your face like this?”

“That I’m yours?”

James nods.

“They would know,” Q asserts.

James pulls him roughly to his feet and kisses him thoroughly, tasting himself on Q’s lips and tongue. “Good.” Q surrenders beautifully, but he’s a bundle of nerves, still taut and needy and hard. And James can finally think clearly again. He pauses for breath and turns the remote back to the lowest setting as Q pants in his embrace.

Without warning, he swats Q on the arse, earning a yelp. “Sit your arse on the table, Pet. I think it’s time to test your orgasm denial stamina in earnest.”

“Yes, Sir,” Q responds.

James refastens his pants, smirking as Q rushes to the table.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	3. The Edge and Over

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Ducky for the beta help. Any mistakes are my own.

James watches Q hoist himself onto the short edge of the table, closing his eyes as the toy is pushed further into his arse.

James smirks, smoothing his shirt. It isn’t as crisp as it was when he put it on a day ago, but it still feels cool and tailored; an emblem of control he once again embodies. He pushes aside the relaxed bliss he normally revels in after coming and focuses on this instead. He’s back in control. Of himself and the situation. Q, on the other hand, is all taut, trembling need and obedience. And _that_ is worth reveling in.

“Legs apart,” he commands, watching Q’s expression as the toy shifts again with his movement. Yes, this has _all sorts_ of potential.

He busies himself with ropes, securing Q’s thigh cuffs and forcing his legs wider. He had no idea Q was this flexible, but as he surveys his work — Q perched on the short edge of the padded table, legs splayed and secured, hands cuffed behind him, cock hard and jutting, and glistening with precome at the tip, Q’s eyes dilated and watching him openly and steadily — James is pleased with the effect. It arouses something primal in _him_ , not just his groin. And it’s not the ropes _per se_. It’s those steady, green eyes showing James that there is nowhere else Q wants to be.

“You are the most compelling thing,” James murmurs, tracing his fingers along Q’s inner thighs, from his knees, across the cuffs, to the ring encircling his cock and bollocks. “Wearing my drying come on your cheek like a mark of honor.” He cups Q’s hip with one hand and fingers the remote with the other. He’d turned the toy down when he came, but now he wants Q desperate again. He flicks it to the next setting and rolls Q’s hips slowly forward and back with his hand, smiling as Q whimpers and tips his head back in response. Losing himself in the sensation. “I wonder what other marks I should give you,” James muses softly, noting the way Q’s breath hitches. “I wonder how long I could keep you on edge. I’m feeling quite calm now. Quite able to test you for a good long time. Would you like that?”

“Yes,” Q answers, biting his lip and rocking his hips in the slow, steady rhythm James’ hand demands. “Sir,” he adds, abruptly shifting his focus to James' face.

“Good.” He can’t help but take a bruising kiss, tasting himself on Q’s tongue, feeling Q’s moan as his bare cock rocks into the front of James’ woolen trousers. “Keep rocking just like this,” he murmurs as he pulls away, watching as Q complies. _God,_ he’s lovely. Hard and wanting. If James still had any doubts that he could give Q what he needs, they dissolve in this moment as he watches Q rock onto James’ toy, held open and vulnerable and waiting for James’ marks. He turns the toy up another setting, and Q moans, speeding his rhythm. “Slowly,” James chides, picking up the crop as Q corrects himself. “We have all night.”

He drags the stiff leather tip of the crop across Q’s body, from ankle to thigh, across his belly and chest. Q shivers and arches into the touch like a cat. The scrape of leather is gentle now, but offers the promise of stinging pain, even when used tenderly, If anything, Q seems aroused by the anticipation, his breath deepening and his cock just as hard as ever. So hard, in fact, that James runs the stiff leather along the underside of Q’s cock, supporting it as it pushes forward with Q’s rocking hips. The modest friction makes Q shudder. Or perhaps the promise of pain _there_ is too visceral to deny. His eyes are steady and trusting, though. Beautiful. James drags the crop up Q’s body again, traces it over the come on Q’s face, drags it along the line of his jaw, down the side of his throat, down further, flicking it across one of Q’s nipples. That earns the first real gasp, and James repeats it, harder.

“Oh god,” Q cries, head tipping back.

“Color?”

“Green! So green, ple—”

James snaps the crop down on Q’s other nipple, earning a yelp and a tug at the restraints.

“Sensitive,” James comments, leaning forward to soothe the abused nippled with his tongue.

“Yes,” Q admits.

“But you love it,” James adds, lips still brushing the responsive skin.

“Yes,” Q repeats a bit ruefully, moaning as James tightens his teeth on the raised nub.

“Delightful.”

Q laughs breathlessly. “Should prove entertaining, yes.”

James enjoys this playful version of Q. He wasn’t sure he’d see it when Q was bound. He backs off to find one of the wooden chairs he’d set aside, knowing exactly how he wants to proceed. He sits between Q’s sprawled legs, drags the crop along Q’s inner thighs, along the underside of his cock again. As Q looks down on him curiously, James leans forward and takes the head of Q’s cock into his mouth.

“Oh god,” Q sighs, closing his eyes.

James teases the slit with his tongue, sucks softly on the tip as Q moans. He turns the toy up a notch, savoring the jolt it sends through Q and his cock. Q rocks his hips in hesitant, almost unconscious motions — not quite enough to count as fucking James’ mouth and being fucked by the toy, but suggestive of both. His groans grow louder and his head falls back. A shift in his breathing signals that he’s getting close to the edge, when James abruptly pulls off and interrupts the “oh god, oh god” with the _whapwhapwhap_ of the crop.

Q cries out and stares down at the three neat welts aligned on his right inner thigh, just above his knee. When he meets James’ gaze again, James smirks and turns up the toy another notch.

“Eyes on me this time,” he says and lowers his mouth to Q’s cock again.

Three more times he brings Q nearly to the edge, and three times he adds to the rows of welts traveling up Q’s legs. Each time he turns the toy up and it takes less time to bring Q to the brink of orgasm, and the crop does less to pull him back. James becomes very proficient at sensing the signs of Q’s imminent release — his breathing, the shape of Q’s cock in his mouth as it becomes impossibly harder, the tensing of muscles. He draws Q closer to the edge each time, wanting to challenge him. Make this memorable. Make Q want James as a Dom as well as a lover.

By the time he starts on the fifth cycle, Q is panting and sweating, still whimpering even after the crop leaves another three marks. As James lowers his mouth onto Q’s cock again, he hears Q keen, “No, amber… amber, please.”

He immediately draws back and offers Q space, watching him try to regain control.

“Too much?” he asks after a moment.

Q shivers. “It’s _brilliant_. It’s...I’m just too close. And I don’t want to disappoint you.”

James watches him carefully. He _is_ very close to the edge. “Even with the ring?” James asks, surprise clear in his voice.

Q nods and laughs ruefully. “You are, apparently, a very quick study.”

James preens at the compliment, pleased that Q is struggling under his ministrations. That he is being creative enough, if not harsh enough, to impress Q. He could stop now, but there are several inches of Q’s inner thighs still unmarked, and it feels like a retreat, ending before he finishes what he started. Still, he doesn’t want Q to fail; the idea of punishment is anathema. He stands and walks over to the drawers, opening the one he stumbled upon earlier while Q uses the pause to compose himself. He selects a basic medium-weight set of clamps with a chain between them, lifting it from the cloth-lined drawer like a diamond necklace he might use to adorn a lover. He turns to find Q watching him, eyes widening as he focuses on the metal gleaming between James’ hands, then closing in resignation as he nods.

“You can refuse,” James offers, walking forward.

“No… they’ll help. I’m just—”

“Sensitive,” James purrs, his cock jumping at the thought of Q doing something he doesn’t necessarily want just to allow James more time to play. James is sure he’ll like the look of them flashing against Q’s skin. He pinches Q’s left nipple hard enough to earn a gasp and make it rise, and fastens the clamp quickly and upside down, with the chain attachment pointing up. Q looks ready to correct him when James levels him a stern look and repeats his actions on the other nipple, earning another gasp and a squirm. Q watches curiously as James holds the chain up to form an arch that reaches the base of Q’s chin. Perfect. “Open your mouth and hold this between your teeth,” James orders.

Q clearly does not expect that, but hesitantly obeys, dipping his chin and forced to look down.

“Now you won’t be able to turn away while I suck you, and if you feel yourself getting too close, you can give it a tug and rein yourself in.”

Q nods and whimpers at the resulting yank on his nipples.

James feels deliciously diabolical as he kneels between Q’s tethered legs and looks up into his lowered face. He drags his fingers across the welts to the fresh, unmarred skin of Q's upper thighs. There’s really only room for three more welts on each side before he’s a bit too close to Q’s groin for comfort. Two more cycles, then. Q should be able to handle that.

“Color?”

“Green,” Q responds through clenched teeth.

“Good. We’re almost finished. When we’re done,” he adds, pressing his fingers into the welts on each side and making Q moan, “you’ll feel it when you walk. The inseams of those checkered trousers will press against my handiwork with every step, and you’ll remember the warm slide of my mouth on your cock, the sting of my crop on your thighs, and the tug of my clamps on your nipples. For _days_.”

Q closes his eyes and whimpers in response.

“Shhh. You’re doing so well. So good for me,” James praises, and Q opens his eyes and stares. “Just a little more. Keep your eyes on me. I’m confident you can do this.” And with that, he takes Q into his mouth.

It’s more intense this time. Per James’ instructions, Q doesn’t close his eyes. He may still be in subspace, but he isn’t _lost_ in it like before. He’s tethered to the reality of James’ eyes, follows the movement of James’ lips on his cock. James takes him deeper, eyes still locked, until he feels the tell-tale twitch of Q’s cock, tastes fresh precome, and sees Q’s lashes flutter — and Q jerks his chin up abruptly, crying out through gritted teeth. There are tears in the corner of his eyes when he opens them again, but his gaze is steady. James sucks him harder, turning the toy up, knowing Q can control his reactions.

There’s an intensity — an intimacy — that James doesn’t remember from his experience at the club. Perhaps it’s the juxtaposition of James being on his knees but holding all the power, while Q is looking down on him, bound by leather, rope, and chains. Maybe it’s that he cares for Q, and can’t wholly objectify him, even as he does his best to toy with Q’s limits and send him deep into subspace, until Q's focusing only on James and his demands and the strain of resisting the relentless stimulus. And James _is_ relentless. And observant. Both qualities that carry over very nicely from his day job to this new, very gratifying pursuit.

Q is a quivering, pleading mess by the time he earns his last welts from the crop. He doesn’t even cry out as it strikes the final time; just murmurs _pleasepleaseplease_ around the chain in his mouth. James surges up to his feet, tossing the crop to the floor. He gently removes the chain from Q’s mouth before cupping his neck and kissing him thoroughly. “So good. So _fucking_ good for me!” he says into Q’s mouth.

Q surrenders, dazed and taut, whimpering as James wraps his hands around Q’s back and settles them possessively between Q’s tailbone and his bound hands, stepping close enough that Q’s cock presses against James’ wool trousers, and the nipple clamps drag against his dress-shirt.

“Shhh. I’ve got you, love,” he reassures, releasing the carabiner connecting Q’s wrists. He tosses it aside. “Lean back on your hands… that’s it. Easy now, this is going to sting.” He releases both clamps at once, soothing each reddened nipple with his tongue as Q pants through the ache of blood rushing back into the pinched area. “That’s better, isn’t it?” James asks, taking the time to remove his own shirt as Q watches and nods dazedly. He drops it to the floor and steps back into Q’s space, tugging on the two knots securing Q's thighs to the table and loosening the ropes enough that he can shift Q. “Onto your back. Yes, just like that,” he says, lifting Q’s legs as he leans back onto his elbows and lies down. James slides Q’s arse to the edge of the table and tightens the ropes again, forcing Q’s knees open and up near his shoulders. _Bloody hell_ he’s flexible — bent nearly in half with his long cock and smooth bollocks and stuffed hole clearly on display. The neat row of welts on each leg mark Q as _his..._ show exactly what Q will allow him to do. James circles the table and secures Q’s hands above his head, stretching his arms. Q watches him as he works, a bit unfocused and completely compliant.

“My god, look at you,” James murmurs, moving back to the foot of the table and running a possessive hand over the welts on Q’s thigh, over his bollocks and down to cup his arse. “Fucking gorgeous and pinned like a butterfly, but not nearly so delicate, are you?” He presses at the toy, proving his point. The things Q takes and keeps begging for more.

“Please, James,” Q whispers, arching into the push of the toy, and _fuck_ if that doesn’t go straight to James’ cock.

“Please what, love?” he asks, bending down to mouth Q’s bare bollocks as he slips the cock ring off, making Q squirm and moan. He likes them bare, he decides. Likes the smooth skin in his mouth. Likes the way it looks almost natural as Q’s hair ranges from thick and lush on his head and above his cock, to nonexistent on his chest and balls. James spares a quick look at the remaining tools Q laid out on the tray. He doesn’t have much patience for them anymore.

“Please,” Q repeats, arching his back and making himself look more open, if that were possible. _More_ inviting. Bloody _fucking_ hell. James realizes abruptly that he could ask anything of Q right now, and he would offer it up with an arch and a moan and a _please_ falling from his lips. Just like the Dom in Berlin said. _The really fun ones aren’t the pain sluts… it’s the ones that love subspace so much you can get them to this state where they’ll take anything and ask for more. You can push all their limits._ Q is like that, he thinks. It’s a thrill to know that he has this power, but also an enormous responsibility. He feels suddenly protective, wondering how often Q has gotten into this state with relative strangers in a club, and how often it was taken advantage of. But he also can’t deny the newly awakening Dom within him that very much wants to test those limits: the possibilities and the things he desires, now that he’s had a taste of it. It’s a puzzle for another moment, though.

“I thought I might paddle your arse,” James admits, reaching instead for his own flies. “Make it impossible for you to forget this, whether standing or sitting. But I find it hard to concentrate on anything but fucking you when you beg so prettily. And you’ve been so good for me...” He drops his trousers and pants and kicks them away, palming his erection before reaching for the condom and lube.

Q whimpers and arches in invitation. “Paddle me next time,” he suggests. “Please don’t make me wait anymore. I’m… I need…”

_Yes._ “Next time,” James agrees, crowing within at the thought of being allowed to have Q like this again. “I’ll just have to fuck you _very well_ so you’ll remember me when you sit.” And with that, he tugs at the toy. “Push this out for me,” he orders, and Q does, leaving a gaping, spread hole until James fills it in one, hard, smooth thrust.

_Fuck_ that’s good. Q arches and gasps and pulls on his restraints, and _that’s_ even better. James adjusts his angle to ensure he’s hitting Q’s prostate on each thrust. Bloody hell, he’s not going to last long.

“Harder. Please, James, _harder_ ,” Q pleads.

Bloody fuck. That he can do. Q’s eyes flutter shut as James pounds into him.

“No!” he commands. “Eyes open. You watch me fuck you.”

Q groans and does as he’s told, scanning James body with dark, heavy-lidded eyes and then meeting his gaze. He’s saying something James can’t hear, but realizes is his name over and over. “James… James…”

Fuck. He’s going to come sooner than he wanted. _Again_.

“I’ve got you, love,” he reassures. “I’ve got you. You don’t need to hold back anymore.” He gently brushes his fingers across the welts, even as his harsh thrusts start to move the heavy table across the floor.

Q cries out in pleasure, thrashing against his restraints, and before James can touch his cock, he’s coming in long thick ropes across his concave belly and heaving chest. Tremors squeeze James’ cock, and he’s coming too, a long, satisfied groan coursing through him as he stills impossibly deep in Q.

The room falls silent, but for their recovering breaths.


	4. (after)Care

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as ever to Ducky for handholding, cheerleading, and betaing. This is the last chapter of this fic, and I'm likely to step away from these boys for a bit to pursue other challenges, but I still have quite a few headcanons about them, so their series will likely continue...

It takes James a moment to come back to himself. Heavy bliss weighs on his bones, a satisfaction so deep and encompassing he almost forgets his surroundings. But Q whimpers as he pulls out, and his focus is immediately back where it belongs. He tosses the condom on the tray with the other items needing cleaning or disposal and sets about loosening the ropes binding Q in what now appears to be a ridiculously uncomfortable position.

“Shhh,” he soothes as Q tries to sit up. “You don’t need to move a muscle, love. Just stay curled up on your side while I get it all off of you.” He runs his fingers through Q’s fringe, pushing it off his brow. “Just close your eyes and rest,” he murmurs, kissing Q’s temple. “You were so good for me…”

As James removes the cuffs, Q quivers with little aftershocks and sighs a pleased moan when his thighs rest against each other. James is tempted to blindfold him to help him stay in subspace for as long as possible, but the scene is over, and it’s up to Q to decide when he’s ready to emerge. A blindfold might imply James were still in charge. Once he has all the leather and rope removed from Q’s body — checking the cuff lines for abrasions as he goes — he realizes that he isn’t sure what to do next. As a Dom, he should check Q over and put some ointment on his welts and then probably take his leave and let Q loll in subspace to his heart’s content, like the Dom at the Berlin club did. As no doubt Jon does, since Q made it clear they weren’t lovers. But James _is_ Q’s lover, and as such, he wants to clean Q gently and hold him all night.

But this isn’t about him. Q needed this, and he may well need privacy now.

He can’t leave Q on this table, though. His sweat is cooling and those little shudders of contentment will soon turn to shivers and pull him out of his bliss. Besides, Q’s arse is red and irritated, and James needs to address that first, even if Q asks him to leave afterward. Feeling secure in his decision, he gently lifts Q, who offers a feeble complaint — _shhh love just close your eyes and let me take care of you_ — and carries him to the bathroom, surprised to find it tidy despite Q’s lengthy preparations. There are even tubes of ointment out on the counter as if Q anticipated treating himself…

He fiddles with the light switches, selecting the dimmest option that only illuminates a wall of alcoves. There are candles, but James doesn’t want to set Q down long enough to manage those. Though he’s used the bathroom before, he now really takes notice of the fact it has not only a shower but a deep tub in the corner, easily large enough for two.

Q already has his arm wrapped around James’ neck, but he whispers, “Hold onto me” for safe measure before dipping down to insert the plug and turn the faucet to start the tub filling. He carries Q to the shower, opening the door and turning that faucet on as well.

“Keep your eyes closed if you like. Can you stand?”

“Not bothered,” comes the muffled reply, barely heard over the running water.

“You’ll feel better,” James coaxes. “All you have to do is stand with your eyes closed and let me do the rest. Then you can have a nice soak to soothe your skin.”

There’s a moment’s hesitation, and then Q groans grudgingly and nods against the crook of James’ neck. He sets Q down on wavering feet and pulls him into the spray. He rinses Q’s come off his chest and his own come off Q’s face and turns him so the spray is on his back and arse. Q whines into his neck as James rinses the lube from his body and then turns the faucet.

The tub is half full by the time they leave the shower, and James maneuvers Q into the water, surprised when he tugs at James to join him.

“Are you sure?” James asks.

Q bites at his lip, suddenly more alert, despite his eyes still being closed. “Only if you want—”

James presses a thumb against Q’s lips, silencing him. “What I _want_ is to stay with you all night. But tonight isn’t about me. It’s about what you need.”

There’s a beat of hesitation, and then, “Get in the tub with me.”

It’s almost a question. Q’s not quite the pleading sub of the last hour or two, nor is he quite his usual demanding self, but then James doesn’t need an engraved invitation. He closes the faucet and gets in, settling with his back against the porcelain and allowing Q to settle against his chest. And this is _exactly_ what he wants as he considers the revelations of the last few hours — both Q’s reactions and his own. James runs his fingers along Q’s shoulder and arm as Q nuzzles into his neck.

He likes it. Oh god _,_ he likes _all_ of it. Likes Q on his knees and tied to the bench begging. Likes Q in his ear with crisp, competent instructions. And he treasures Q like this: spent and deep inside his own mind, but physically anchored to James like he’s solid land in a tremulous sea. He wants it all — his quartermaster, his lover, _and_ his sub. It’s… it’s the _trust_ he realizes. It’s titillating and sexy as hell to have Q restrained and begging for his cock, but it’s Q’s _trust_ he finds so addictive.

He doesn’t trust the vast majority of his sexual partners — most are marks, after all — and they certainly don’t trust him. Even the lovers he _has_ trusted — Vesper, Madeleine — he shouldn’t have. One actively betrayed him and the other wished he were something he isn’t. But Q… Q knows everything. Has access to every file, knows all his worst moments. And he trusts James to do his job, trusts him at least a bit with his heart, _and_ still trusts James to strip him, bind him, and use a crop dangerously close to his most sensitive regions. It’s breathtaking. Intoxicating. It drives James to want more. He wants to explore _all_ of those drawers, learn the purpose of every odd piece of furniture in Q’s sanctum. And more still. His explorations in video and the club have him wanting to engage Q in countless scenarios. Things he has no idea if Q would enjoy or find arousing.

Q may have created a bit of a monster, James muses. They need to talk about limits. He needs to understand how often Q needs this and what his boundaries are. He hopes what he did was enough for Q, because he _really_ doesn’t like the idea of anyone else touching him like this, despite the fact he knows he can't always be here. Or... well some of the scenarios in James' imagination involve other people touching Q, but only when James commands it. And that's another limit he needs to understand.

“You’re thinking _very_ loudly,” Q mumbles against his neck.

James’ hand stills on the small of Q’s back. It’s wandered lower all on its own, it seems, skimming the cleft of Q’s arse and then up his spine. “Sorry, love,” James responds. He’s grown a bit hard, he realizes. Not _hard_ , but considering he’s already come twice...

“Go on,” Q says, and it takes James a moment to realize what he means.

“Aren’t you sore?” he asks, even as his fingers dip down to skim Q’s arse.

“Hmmm. _Deliciously_ sore. But I rather like the idea that I still tempt you.”

James huffs a laugh and cups Q’s arse gently, but possessively, even as he drops a kiss in Q’s hair and says, “I should leave you alone so you can stay in subspace all night, if you want to.”

“There’s a thought,” Q answers, shifting against James’ chest. “But I think you would have had to keep the cuffs on... or perhaps a collar… for that to work. I’ve never had that,” he muses. “Of course, I’ve never had this before, either.”

“You’ve never had a bath with someone?” That seems hard to believe considering this non-standard tub in Q’s personal washroom.

“Well, I _have_ , but... “ He shakes his head against James’ chest. “I’ve had Doms who diligently removed my bindings and cleaned me up and put a blanket over me so I could come round on my own after they’d left. People who may have cared about me on some level, but really had no interest in being a lover. And I’ve had lovers who essentially fled when they learned of my… proclivities. But I’ve never had someone possibly interested in both…” There’s a lilt at the end, like he’s asking a question. “I’ve never experienced this… _intimacy_ after a scene.” He draws circles on James’ chest as he thinks. “It’s nice.”

“It is,” James agrees, tracing the outside of Q’s hip. None of his touches are particularly sexual right now, but they’re intimate — wandering Q’s body with familiarity and confidence. He hadn’t been sure what to expect in the aftermath of the scene. Hadn’t really given himself a chance to think past convincing Q to let him try and managing the scene itself. But now he admits he’s surprised to find Q so coherent. He would have thought Q would be in an exhausted, post-coital stupor for the rest of the night. Instead, Q is more articulate than he is most mornings. It makes him wonder vaguely if he did something wrong…

“Was it okay for you?”

He looks down at Q’s mop of curls. “Was what okay?”

“Domming for me?”

He can’t have this conversation without looking into Q’s eyes. “Come here,” he says, tugging at Q until he lifts his head. James cups Q’s face in his hands and dips down for a kiss. “It was more than okay,” he whispers against Q’s lips. “It was _brilliant._ As I’m sure you could tell.”

Q huffs a relieved laugh. “You _did_ seem to take to it with surprising proficiency, considering it was your first time.”

Ah. That.

“I have a confession,” James starts.

Q pulls back and quirks an eyebrow at him.

“That wasn’t my first time.”

“But.” Q’s brow furrows. “That night you discovered me… when I came out to the sitting room and asked, you said you’d never ‘delved’.”

“And I spoke truthfully,” James answers quickly, cupping his hand on Q’s cheekbone. “But then I couldn’t get it out of my mind: you, arching into the strike, hard and wanting more. And I started doing some research.”

“Research,” Q repeats, shifting his weight until he’s sitting up, straddling James.

“Aye. It started with books and porn videos.”

“Oh dear. Some of the porn is _truly_ atrocious.”

“I’m aware,” James smirks. “But there was enough of interest to keep me investigating. My reactions were complicated, though. I’m sure you’ve read enough of my file to know what’s happened when I’ve been restrained in the line of duty.”

Q bites his lips and offer a small nod.

“And yet, I couldn’t stop thinking about _your_ reactions to it. I kept imagining you in these scenarios I was reading or seeing and… it was all very _compelling_.” He absently strokes Q’s legs, thumbs tracing the edges of his marks. “But I had to know that I would react appropriately when confronted with the reality of it. It would have been so mortifying… for _both_ of us… if I’d offered and we’d started and then I’d experienced some inconvenient flashback…”

Q’s expression softens and he runs his fingers along James’ chest. It’s oddly reassuring.

“So when I had a bit of time in Berlin, I found a club. I spoke with a Dom there and explained in broad terms my situation, and he selected a sub, took us both to a back room and taught me to use a flogger, a crop, and a cane.”

“And your reaction was… positive?” Q’s expression is complicated. A mixture of hope and fear and… James isn’t sure.

James nods, his hands sliding around Q’s arse and pulling him closer until their cocks are touching. “It was. He didn’t _look_ particularly like you, but his reactions… I could imagine you making them. And it… _god_ Q, the thought of you like that. I was responding to both, really: him in that moment and you... imaging you. The way he begged for release…” James shakes his head, trailing off. “It was beautiful. And I _knew_. I knew that if _he_ could arouse such interest in me, seeing you like that would _devastate_ me.

“Watching the Dom fuck him, take care of him, soothe him afterward… it was so much better than anything I’d read or streamed. It was all I could do not to take myself in hand until I was back in the privacy of my hotel.”

“You didn’t?” Q’s expression had been growing increasingly unnerved, but now he shakes his head, confused. “Didn’t you get to fuck him, too?”

“I was invited,” James admits, stroking his fingers up Q’s spine. “But I couldn't. It wasn’t him I wanted. It would have felt like cheating on you.”

“But…” Q shakes his head again. “Just a few days later—“

“I seduced a mark for information, yes. But this wasn’t for work. And I already had the information I needed about myself. Plus several new ideas for what I wanted to do with you.”

Q seems flustered, but pleased. “So… god, we really don’t have to have this conversation right now, but when you say ‘cheating’ it sounds as if you’d like to be exclusive. And that’s… I mean, on the one hand, that sounds _fantastic_ , but also—”

“Exactly what you said you couldn’t promise me?” James asks.

Q nods.

“Well,” he says, brushing some of Q’s fringe out of his eyes. “I can only offer it with caveats. I’ll still seduce whomever I need to on a mission. But when I’m off-mission — when I’m here — whether it’s as a lover or a Dom, I only want you.”

“James,” Q murmurs, cupping James face between his hands and kissing him. There’s an intensity in it James can’t quite read. He probably shouldn’t have said so much. They’re both wrung out by missions and excellent sex and—

Q lays back down against his chest, and James wraps his arms around his narrow frame. They lie like that before several moments before Q says, “I haven’t had a proper lover since before I started MI6. There are just so many secrets to keep.”

James nods. He knows that isolation well.

“And I always seem to have more secrets than even most spies, what with…”. He holds his wrist showing lingering redness of minor chafing. “But you know all of it. You don’t even seem to begrudge my workaholic tendencies, either. You just try to keep me upright while I deal with things.” His voice is almost incredulous. “Do you have any idea how rare that is?”

He plants a kiss on Q’s head. He knows how rare it is to find someone who can tolerate the absences of missions with equanimity. He imagines its much the same. “Work hard; play hard,” he mutters.

“Just so.”

Q is drawing circles on his chest. Thinking, James realizes.

“Jason is dead,” Q finally says.

James tightens his arms around Q. “I know, love. I’m sorry.”

“He was a good agent. He didn’t deserve the betrayal, or to die alone so far from home.”

“He was. And he didn’t. But from what I hear, he wasn’t alone.”

“For all the good having me in his ear did him.”

“A tremendous amount of good, then,” James counters. And no good at all for Q himself, he muses. “But aren’t I meant to be distracting you from that?”

“No,” Q answers, lifting his head a bit in confusion. “I mean, yes, of course, you managed to distract me beautifully for a few hours, but the Quartermaster is always just below the surface of my skin. As I’m sure 007 is just below your skin. The _real_ benefit of my venture into subspace — aside from the enjoyment — is that my mind is quiet again. There’s space enough to think. I can reflect on Jason’s death now without feeling my breath is being squeezed out of me, or like I’m lost to the pain of it.” James tightens his embrace. “But I haven’t forgotten. I already have vague procedural plans I need to flesh out to help identify a similar situation before it happens again.”

“Flesh them out tomorrow, Q,” James responds.

There’s a pause, and then, “Are you ordering this as my Dom or suggesting it as my boyfriend?”

“Which is more likely to make you listen?” James asks, not even aware that Dom was something he could be outside that room, but enjoying the mischievous lilt back in Q’s voice.

Q sits up and tilts his head. “Actually, I think I’m feeling pretty suggestible either way.”

“Boyfriend, then,” James answers, the word feeling unfamiliar but pleasant in his mouth. “Come on, love. The water’s cooling. Let’s get to bed before either of us is chilled.”

Q is… well _Q_ again. Not a sub. He exits the tub gingerly, but on his own, handing James a towel and inspecting his row of welts as he dries himself. Q looks damned pleased, and James can’t help but be proud. He throws the towel over his head to dry his cropped hair.

“James?”

“Yes, love?”

“You, um… you gave me your caveats,” he starts.

James stills, towel against his hair.

“Tonight was amazing. Perfect. All I need, really. But when you’re out of town… if a mission goes tits up and my mind is racing and you’re in — I don’t know, _Jakarta_ — I may need to… that is to say, I’ll...I’ll—”

“You’ll call Jon. Just as before. You won’t hesitate or feel bad. And when I get home, I’ll take care of you in whatever form you need. Boyfriend or Dom.”

“And that’s… that would work for you?”

“Yes,” James says, pulling Q into an embrace. “That would work for me. Amending what I said before, I’m much more concerned with being allowed in the room when I return from mission than worried about who was in it during my absence. In fact, perhaps we should call when I’m _in_ town. I have a lot to learn, after all.”

Q physically stutters at the thought, mouth opening and shutting as his mind runs through the possibilities at breakneck speed. James laughs and leans in to kiss him.

“Now come to bed. We’ve both had long days, and I have plans for you tomorrow.”

“Plans?” Q allows himself to be pulled toward the bed, his body slow and exhausted even as his voice is curious.

“Hmm. A bit of a lie in. Then breakfast… I hope you have eggs so I can make us omelets.”

“I might do.”

James pulls the covers back of the pristine sheets, hoping Q has another set or two. He’ll have to call in tomorrow, but he’s sure they’ll both have a few days off now. “After a leisurely breakfast, we can clean up the room together,” he suggests, waiting for Q to climb in and then settling in behind him.

“I can do that, James. It’s the sub’s job to sanitize everything and put it away.” Q lays on his back and offers himself as a pillow for James’ head.

“Maybe so,” James murmurs, closing his eyes, “but I’d still like to do it together. I’d like a chance to go through all of those drawers. Perhaps even see you demo some of the furniture. I’ve only seen the — is it called a horse? — used once before, when I was in Berlin. But it seems to be quite… versatile.”

“Oh… yes, it can be. It’s certainly comfortable enough to allow me to hold a position for a long time. It’s standard. Most clubs have one. Other pieces I have are more specialized. Some I’ve even designed...”

 _Bloody hell_ , that has some definite promise. The thought of Q using his engineering expertise to fashion bondage furniture specific to his own tastes as a sub is delicious on numerous levels.

“Would your favorite allow me a go at your arse? I never did use the flogger tonight.”

Q shivers almost violently beneath him. “Yes.” Q’s voice is thick. “It’s designed to afford numerous positions that would allow you access in different ways. Some more suitable for a flogger or cane, others more suitable to a crop or paddle… depending on what you want to do.”

“Hmm. And why is it your favorite?”

“Oh… well... you may have noticed that I’m rather flexible. Most commercial furniture bends the sub over at a ninety-degree angle with their legs slightly parted, but I find I get more aroused with more of a stretch in both directions. So I’ve engineered something that allows for that flexibility. I haven’t had a chance to really explore all the options yet.”

 _Christ_. That sounds _very_ promising. “That’s what we’ll do, then. Though I’ll warn you: canes make me nervous.”

“Whyever for?” Q asks, running a hand through James’ hair.

“I saw pictures on the internet where canes had done real damage. Broken skin and deep bruising. There seems less chance for mishap with the others, because they either disperse the force more or flex enough to deliver less. I would hate to actually hurt you.”

Q lowers a kiss on the top of James’ head and drags his fingers across his scalp. It feels very nice.

“But the Dom in the club trained you?”

“Yes. But even so.”

“Well, there’s no reason you must use a cane, but they have the advantage of being forceful and precise. I can teach you until you’re comfortable with it, but there’s no need to start on that anytime soon. Plenty of other options in the meantime.”

They’re both quiet for a whole, James focused on Q’s heartbeat and the scrape of fingers on his scalp, nearly lulling off when Q asks, “Did you like the club?”

“What?”

“Did you like it? Being there, as a Dom. Seeing what was happening around you. Did you enjoy the experience?”

“I…” James thinks for a moment. “I was there to gauge my own response, and get training. I was definitely aroused by the end. But I didn’t really allow myself to just relax. I was there for a purpose.”

“Hmmm.” Q is drawing thoughtful circles on his shoulder now.

“Why do you ask. You have better equipment here, from the sounds of it.”

“Some of my equipment is better. Some of it’s not. The clubs can invest in large pieces and rent the rooms. But there’s also the atmosphere. I prefer being here when I’m really a mess and need out of my head. But I also go there when I just need to unwind… like that time you broke in with the cut on your leg. It serves a different need.” Q shrugs.

“There’s a camaraderie, I suppose," he continues after a moment.  "A common subculture that helps me feel connected to something, even with a false name and lack of expectations for the future, if that makes sense? But now I’m connected to you… I just wondered if you might like it is all.”

James hums and tries to imagine it. He doesn’t like the idea of Q going without him at all. Somehow knowing Jon may touch him is different altogether than imagining Q at the mercy of strangers. Though the idea of him being on display has James' cock twitching.

“There’s a certain voyeuristic pleasure in it,” James admits.

“Yes, exactly,” Q says, hand stilling in James' hair.

“And I suppose, exhibitionist, too. Is that part of the allure? Do you like being on display?”

“It’s more… being _displayed_. I’m not exposing myself, but actively being exposed by someone else.”

James knows exactly what he means. “That was my favorite part, actually. Watching a room full of people fuck isn’t particularly interesting, but watching that first moment a Dom moves to control a sub — undress them or restrain them — watching the sub allow it, welcome it—”

“Submit,” Q says simply.

“Yes. That’s fascinating to watch. You still want to do that?” He raises his head to look at Q, who meets his gaze steadily.

“I don’t know that I could, now. It would feel like cheating on you, and it’s generally just for fun. But if you were interested in going… I would like that very much. To be shown off by _you._ Show them what I’d let _you_ do to me.”

 _Bloody hell,_ that’s hot _._ Could he do that? Take Q somewhere and restrain his hands and open his flies and feel him melt to his knees... Yes. Yes, he thinks he could. Laughter bubbles up from deep in James’ chest.

“James?” Q asks, something bordering on hurt in his voice.

He rolls on top of Q and kisses him soundly. “You are going to be _such_ a handful. And you’re going to keep me on my toes. So perfect.” He kisses Q again, reveling in the man’s response. “I would love to show you off properly. I don’t really know the etiquette for such clubs. You’ll have to teach me.”

“With pleasure,” Q sighs.

“Now go to sleep, love. We’re going to have a busy few days, I think.”

James lies next to Q again, this time spooning him from behind. He’s content and sated and so hopeful for the future it almost hurts.

“James?”

“Yes, love?” he murmurs into Q’s curls.

“Welcome home.”

Welcome home, indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading...


End file.
